Beautiful
by JustClem
Summary: Chloe doesn't love her. How can she love someone who abandoned her for 5 years after her father died? It doesn't matter if Max has secretly been a superhero for 2 months who've saved countless people from countless of threats. It doesn't matter if Chloe is also secretly a superhero and her partner, and that she's fought by Max's side for 2 months, and told Max countless of times


Ladybug sways gently into the ground, yoyo in hand, taking in the scene. Before her is something that should freak her out, but is, instead, rated 2 out of 5 in the scale of weirdness. It makes her pause and think, _oh,_ _so this is my life now. _

Another akuma. This time, a bearded, scratchy man who she's pretty sure is a drug dealer. He yells about Pompiduou, and how people never treat him right. If she were to guess, Pompiduou's his lover or his kid.

She blinks, and doesn't attack him just yet. She waits until a familiar figure dressed in black leather pops up beside her, and waits longer, content to stay where she is to better formulate a plan on how to solve this problem.

"Why hello there, Milady." Ladybug scowls when Chat purrs and leans close. She pokes Chat in the nose and pushes so she can have her personal space back. Chat doesn't seem to mind, grinning as dopily as ever, her wild hair swaying. One strand in particular hovers over her eyes, and Ladybug finds that they're the exact shade of electric blue. "As cold as ever, I see. I hope the arrival of Chat Noirette will help warm up those icy heart of yours."

"Focus, Chatton," Ladybug says. Chat shrugs and leans her chin and rests her hands on her baton, looking anything but focused. Her ear twitches lazily once. "This is no time for your flirting."

"You're just so pawsitively perfect, I can't help but be smitten by you, bugaboo." Her eyes brighten, and her smile turns into a grin. "Hey, that rhymed!"

Ladybug rolls her eyes, letting herself mull over how it did, indeed, rhyme. She points to the scene below them, where students and the staff of Blackwell are in a panic. For good reasons.

"Hey, is that Frank?"

"Who's Frank?"

"My drug dealer." She shoots Chat a look. "What?! He only sells weed!" She doesn't withdraw her look. "What's wrong with smoking weed! It's lit!"

Ladybug sighs, and figures it's not worth the effort, or if it is, then they should discuss it later, preferably after they've dealt with the situation. "Tell me what's happening."

"Um… So, he's turning everyone into dogs, which—ew." Chat shudders.

"Right. What else?"

"That he… seems to have it out on Icky Vicky, and that jackass Nathan."

Ladybug ignores the fact that Chat knows who Victoria and Nathan are which, therefore, could mean that she's a student from Blackwell, which is where a student named Maxine Caulfield also is from. "No. Not that. Pompiduou."

"You know Pompiduou?"

"No. Do _you_ know Pompiduou? Because this Frank guy keeps mentioning him before he turns someone into a dog. I'm thinking he's his boyfriend, or husband, or something, but that doesn't explain the dogs. Not really. My theory is that the dog is a metaphor, which signifies his grief over his lost loved one, Pompiduou, which—"

"Doggo."

"What?"

"Pompiduou." Chat shifts her foot. "It's his dog. His doggo." Under her breath, thinking Ladybug can't hear her, Chat mutters, "And a pretty cute doggo, at that."

"Okay."

Chat stares up at her, and all traces of her awkwardness is gone. "Okay?"

Ladybug nods. "Okay." She brings out her yoyo, and twirls it around. "Let's do this, kitty. You ready?"

"Hella ready, princess!"

* * *

Turns out, when Chat said that she knows Frank, she's serious about it. With the way she tries to coax him into letting go of his anger, Ladybug might believe that they're BFFs, which makes her wonder what kind of person Chat must be for her to hang out with drug dealers, of all people.

The worst part is that it actually works! Chat's words hit, and Frank, a couple of times, almost gives up his reign, giving them an opening to try and grab the leash that he's tied into a wrist bracelet which Chat insists must be where the akuma is.

The fight goes smoothly, relatively.

Or at least, it would've gone smoothly if Chat hadn't tripped on a rock and fallen right into Ladybug's arms, making them both fall.

Ladybug knows it's an accident, but can't help but glare at Chat as she tries to pick herself up and away from her chest. To her credit, Chat looks genuinely troubled, picking herself up and apologising and offering her hand.

Her blue eyes are wide, slitted. The black mask brings out her sharp facial features, and gives her this edgy, mysterious looks male teenage models strive for. Her skin is surprisingly soft, peachy even, and clean. A far cry from Ladybug and the 'polka dots' surrounding her face. Her lips part enough for Ladybug to see a hint of fangs.

No matter how pretty Chat's face might be, everyone in Arcadia Bay knows the real highlight of it is her bod.

Ladybug's cheeks burn, wishing she had a camera so she could frame and capture the way the sunlight glistens and bounces against the black leather, accentuating her toned, slim,_ hot _body.

Oh, how easy it would be to yank Chat back by her bell and push those tasty-looking lips against her own.

"Um, Ladybug?"

Ah, yeah. Focus. She needs to focus.

Besides, no matter how desirable Chat may be, Ladybug's heart belongs to someone else. It's belonged to that same person for over 5 years.

Ladybug takes her hand, and side-by-side, they conquer the battle and win yet again.

* * *

"See? See this?!"

Max's eyes glaze over in disinterest at the phone screen, only to gape when seeing herself—well, Ladybug. Ladybug and Chat Noirette, on top of each other.

Her cheeks burn, and she looks up at the phone's owner accusingly. "Where did you get that?!"

Rachel blinks at her. "I was there. Duh."

"You were?!" Max scrambles her memories, and remembers a silhouette of a honey-blonde girl looking positively stricken.

"Yeah. I tried to drag you into the battle again, but, as always, you disappeared before I could get to you." Rachel sighs and scowls up at her. "I mean, c'mon! Frank was harmless! Everyone knew that!"

Max doesn't. In fact, Max doesn't know who Frank is. Plus, he turned people into dogs. How was that harmless? She shifts in her bench and directs her eyes elsewhere. "What's wrong with wanting to stay safe?"

"It's boring is what it is," Rachel says, and taps her phone. She stops playing with her phone to give Max a squinted look and say, "_You're _boring."

"Am not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No!"

"Si!"

"Nada!"

Rachel's about to answer, probably with Japanese or French, when her phone buzzes. She, of course, groans, but stops groaning when she sees who's calling.

The look of sympathy Rachel gives Max tells Max exactly who's calling.

_"Heya, Rach," _says the voice on the other end of the line, Rachel's phone volume loud enough for Max to hear even though she isn't on speaker. _"I think I might need help with our favourite drug dealer." _

"Frank?" Rachel frowns. "What's wrong with him? Did he get akumatized again?" Max has similar thoughts. While uncommon, it's still possible for someone to be akumatized twice on the same day.

_"What? No, no. He's just sad about what happened. For almost killing Ladybug." _

Rachel snorts, and Max smiles. "He didn't almost kill her. If anything, it's Chat who almost got into real trouble."

_"Oy, that cat can take of herself. She's a big girl. Anyways, where are you right now?" _

"Oh, um." Rachel looks at Max, not knowing how to answer, and fearful for Max. Max nods and gives Rachel a gentle smile as if she's okay. "I'm with Max."

_"... Oh." _

Max hates it. That small pause before she says a smaller oh. Regret and self-doubt quills around her, and once again she wonders if the miraculous that she found was never meant for her.

"Yeah. We were talking about Ladybug." _And Chat Noirette _, Max wants to say.

_"Cool, cool. A lovely topic to discuss. _" Max blushes while Rachel snickers. _"Anyways, I'll pick you up near the bus stop, how's that sound?" _

"Cool."

_"Okay, cool. Bye." _

"Bye."

Rachel sighs into the bench, and looks at Max again. Max brushes a strand of hair and tucks it into her ear. "You don't have to act so awkward around me when you talk to Chloe. She's your best friend."

"No, Max. You're her best friend."

"Ex." Max shrugs, ignores the black hole in her stomach and the tightness in her chest. "Ex best friend. And enemy."

"You're not her enemy. Quit thinking that she hates you!" Oh, but she should. She should hate Max for what she did. Or rather, what she didn't do for 5 years. She and Rachel both. "No, Max. She misses you."

"She doesn't." She can't miss Max, not when she's surrounded by better people like Rachel.

"You don't know that," Rachel says, adamant. "How would you know what she's feeling when you never tried to get in contact with her?"

Max looks away. The black hole grows smaller, but the tightness strengthens. "You have a point there."

Rachel puts an arm on her thigh. "All she wants is a reason. An answer. Why you never spoke to her. Why you_ still _won't speak to her."

Rachel's hand squeezes. Max isn't sure if it's an offer of support or if Rachel's wondering the same thing. Max can't tell her. Max can't tell anyone. This secret is as big as what kind of magic her earrings hold. Probably bigger.

"She won't forgive me."

Rachel sighs, and stands up. The look she gives Max isn't condescending - despite being Chloe's best friend, Rachel, for some reason, likes Max - but it's harsh enough to make Max ill. Maybe Rachel does secretly hate her. Max vanishes the thought because it's irrational, but sometimes she wishes it was rational. That'll make things easier. "You don't know that until you try."

And Rachel leaves Max with her thoughts.

* * *

Max walks around in the street near Blackwell, her camera slung over her neck, thinking. About Chloe. About Rachel. About Chat Noirette. About Ladybug. About Chloe. Mostly about Chloe.

There's too many things to think about. And Max, the overthinker, hates thinking.

She couldn't stand being in her room, surrounded by all of her polaroid pictures, that wall of hers, full of happy memories but never making her happy every time she looks at them, knowing that she hasn't contacted Chloe in the 2 months she's been here.

Max feels like she's forgetting something. Something important.

She hears a thud, and whirls behind her. Chat is there, illuminated by the dim light of the starry sky, baton in hand.

"Chat?" Max asks, then remembers civilians never call her by her first name. "Chat Noirette? What are you doing here?"

"Patrol duty." Ah. So that's what Max forgot. "But also because I'm… visiting an old friend."

Max looks at the Blackwell building, out of reach, standing proudly. "Are they in Blackwell?"

Chat grins. "Can't tell you that, Maxie. It's confidential."

Max feels a little something like pride and warmth enveloping her like a cocoon. "You know who I am?" Chat's grin falters, and Max feels bad about asking, even if it's a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. "Sorry."

Chat keeps looking at her, in something like interest, but more intense, and hungrier. Max feels transparent, and wonders if she screwed up somehow and accidentally gave away her identity. Max _is_ a screw up, so it's not that big of a surprise.

"Do you enjoy it here?"

"Huh?"

"Blackwell," Chat says, unnaturally still and quiet. Not at all like the boisterous and flirty cat Ladybug has come to know. "Like it or not?"

There isn't an easy answer for that. Jefferson, one of the two main reasons why she's here, is strict, and calculating, and makes her wonder why she's even accepted in Blackwell. But the people there are nice, and give Max space. People like Kate, and Dana, and Rachel. She isn't close with them, but she likes them enough. Of course, there's always Victoria and her bee hive being an inconvenience, and being the reason why someone's akumatized, more often than not.

It feels like Max is ordinary, and she's surrounded by all these great people who'll do great things, and it sucks. It makes her feel like a fake, especially because she needs to use magic and transform into someone else to be special.

But Max can't tell her that. Max doesn't want to tell her that, even if she trusts Chat with her life.

"I enjoy it, yeah."

"I call bullshit."

Max startles, and looks at Chat, who's taken a step towards her, and another, and another. Max feels inclined to take a step, then remembers that this is Chat, and she'd never hurt her. "It's true. Mark Jefferson is an astounding photographer—"

"Is he why you're here? The only reason why you came back?"

Chat stops, looks at her, searches for something, before resuming again. Max feels cold in the October air. "How did you—"

"Tell me, Max." Chat looms over her, her body inches from pressing against Max's. "Tell me why you came back. And tell me why you left."

Chat's eyes are wide, frantic. It's like she needs to know the answer or else she won't find peace. Max feels idly calm, content, even with all the intensity. Max traces her fingers against Chat's collarbone, inhaling at the scent of leather she's come to like.

"I don't think you want to know."

"You don't know me."

Max smiles. "You don't know me either."

"You'd be surprised at what I know."

_You would be too. _Max's smile widens as she tries to imagine what Chat's reaction would be, knowing that her lady/princess/bugaboo is in her reach.

"A long, long time ago, I had a friend. An awesome friend. We played pirates. I was her first mate."

"Was?"

Max shakes her head and leans into Chat's chest, not caring that she's supposed to be a civilian who has never met Chat before. "I don't have the right to that title anymore. Not after what I did."

She can almost feel Chat's heartbeat this close, strong and steady and luring her in. "And what did you do?"

"Only the worst thing any best friend could do. I left when she needed me."

Chat is tense, and exhausted. It doesn't make for a good combination. Her muscles flex, as though she wishes to move, but can't. Max doesn't blame her. She too is exhausted due to today's battle. She blinks through the haze of sleep when Chat asks, "Did you want to leave?"

"Doesn't matter. I left. And I tried to pretend she never existed."

Chat tenses harder. "Why?"

_Because I was too in love with her. Because I'm still in love with her, after all these time. _

It's why she can't ever want Chat, even if she wonders how it would feel like to kiss her, to roam her hands around her body, to make her let out all kinds of noises.

No matter how loyal, and caring, and gentlemanly, and strong, and kind, and handsome Chat is, Chloe is, and will always be, her truest love.

"I can't tell you," Max says. "I don't know you."

"But you do."

"No, I don't." She takes a step back, and looks at Chat with an intimate familiarity. "And you don't know me too."

"... Alright, if that's what you want, Max."

Max doesn't know what she wants, but she thinks this is what she needs and what should be happening, so she nods, and they move on to lighter topics, as they move away from Blackwell.

Chat is pleasant to talk to when she isn't flirting or when they're not jumpy and preserving time, battling an akuma, waiting for an attack that can come from anywhere and at any time.

Max talks about her photography, and Chat has this warm look on her when she does. When she asks if Max loves photography, Max scoffs good heartedly. "It's my passion. I don't remember a time where I don't love it." She gives a tug at her sleeve and lets her camera sway to emphasize her point.

"Good. It's good to know that…" Chat trails off, and never finishes that sentence, leaving Max with more questions. "Glad you've enjoyed it for so long."

Chat talks like she knows Max. And she does. Just not the Max that's standing in front of her. "Y'know, I've always wondered…"

"Yeah?"

Max tilts her head to the side, and smirks coyly. "Do you actually have dyed blue hair?"

Chat laughs. "Are you kidding me? If that were the case, do you really think it'd be that hard to find out who I am behind the mask?"

Max snorts. "True." She pauses, and notices that it's getting late, and turns back to Blackwell. Chat follows suit, wordless. "So… partially dyed, then?"

Chat runs a hand through her hair, covered partially by her cat-eared beanie, and shrugs. "I tried it once, but sadly, real dye doesn't look as good as the magical miraculous one."

The statement makes Max wonder if the way they look when transformed has something to do with what they wanted to look. Why Chat's suit includes tight leather covered partially by a leather jacket with spikes, whereas Ladybug's leather isn't tight at all, and isn't as eye-catching as Chat's. Why Chat seems to exhibit neon and spikes and an aura of mischief while Ladybug's aura is calmer, more subdued, and sedated, but powerful in her own right.

Maybe it has to do with their personality.

Max doesn't know. What she does know is how much simpler things would be if she's braver. If she's better. If she's good. "Chloe would've loved you."

They're nearing Blackwell now. If she squints hard enough, she thinks she may be able to see her room, covered by the shadows and the trees.

"She sounds purrfect."

Ladybug would've cringed at the pun and shove Chat and tell her to stop joking around. Max, instead, smiles and sighs dreamily. "She is."

"Why won't you meet her, then?"

Max shrugs and decides to tell the truth. Or at least half of it. "Because I'm too scared. Because she'll hate me."

Chat stops, and Max turns. Chat stares at her, and slowly walks towards her. She holds Max's cheek, and Max wonders, for a moment, if Chat will claim her through a kiss.

"She can never hate you," Chat says.

"Then clearly, you don't know her."

"But I know you."

Max doesn't deny her, this time. She just sighs, and leans into Chat's touch.

* * *

Max doesn't know who Chloe is now, but she knows of Chloe, through Rachel.

She doesn't still or curl in on herself whenever Rachel mentions her, no matter how much it hurts at times. She encourages Rachel to talk about Chloe, and what she likes to do, and where she likes to hang out, and what sort of misfits Rachel encourages her to get into.

It's nice to know Chloe, to hear about her, and how she is, even if Max hasn't seen her. It calms her down to know that at least Chloe's doing well enough. That even without Max around, she can still be happy.

It's why Ladybug knows where Chloe would be late at night.

It's why Ladybug flings her yoyo and jumps onto her roof, startling Chloe into dropping her smoke down the roof, onto the grass below them.

Ladybug stares, as Chloe, half sitting half lying down on her roof, right next to the window of her room where she's snuck out, gapes at her, trails of smoke still coming out of her mouth.

What is she doing?

She shouldn't be here. This isn't right. Chloe doesn't deserve to see her, especially not like this. She needs to leave. This is wrong. She doesn't know what she's doing.

Ladybug readies her yoyo, not needing to look at the direction where she'll fling it to know if it'll work.

"Wait!" Ladybug tenses, because in what world could she deny Chloe's wishes? "Ladybug, are- are you okay?"

And Ladybug can't help it. She laughs. Because in what world does the civilian ask about the heroine's wellbeing?

But this is Chloe. So she shouldn't be surprised.

Ladybug turns, and faces Chloe, who struggles to stand up on the roof, barefoot, in her boxers and oversized tank top, dark blonde hair a mess, lacking any bracelets or necklaces or earrings. Her dark blonde hair looking as dark as black in the dark.

She looks nothing like Chloe.

She _is _Chloe.

"I… I'm fine." Ladybug takes half a step, mindful that she's on a roof. "I just… Patrol stuff, y'know?"

Chloe looks at her like she doesn't believe her, and Ladybug tries not to squirm under that familiar, intense gaze. It's like she knows tonight isn't the night for patrolling. "Are you in trouble?"

"Depends on what you mean by trouble."

Chloe's face sombers. "Anything I can do to help?"

Oh, Chloe. Ready to serve as always. Ladybug smiles. "No. This one- I need deal with this alone."

"You should never deal with anything alone."

How is it possible for Chloe to say that? To her, of all people? How is it possible for Chloe to look at her like she knows her? Like she knows her more than Ladybug knows herself?

How?

Ladybug can't stand it. This was a mistake. She turns, says, "Sleep well, Chloe," and makes a move to jump—

—only for Chloe to say, "Don't!" and try to chase after her, moving on an unsteady panel, stumbling, and almost falling if not for Ladybug catching her by the waist, leaning on nothing, relying only on her super sense of balance. "Please don't leave..."

Chloe looks up at her, flushed, and Ladybug feels the pin prick of tears forming. "I hurt you."

"You saved me."

Chloe's eyes sparkle and shimmer with pain that tells her otherwise. All this hurt. All because of her. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be."

Chloe looks at her the way Chat does. Chloe looks like a girl in love. Ladybug settles her back into a standing position, and leaves, never answering her question.

* * *

Ladybug jumps down, cries, and ignores her earrings' beeping, signalling that she'll soon transform back.

She sucks in a breath when she hears a familiar whoosh and clank of a baton against the concrete ground. She whirls around and growls. "What are you doing here, Chatton?"

Chat doesn't look the way she ought to look. She's sure of herself, but not in the familiar playful manner. No, she's sure of herself in this determined, stone cold way. The way her eyes blaze in blue reminds Ladybug of another stubborn girl she knew, and the way that girl held in every anger dressed in black, telling another girl she wouldn't be angry so long as she never got replaced.

She never gets replaced. Because no one can replace her. Yet she's angry anyway.

And now Chat's angry too.

"What _was _that?" Chat marches up at her, the same way she marched up to Max Caulfield days ago, only with more vigor and worry in her eyes, and not holding back in fear of scaring a civilian away. "Tell me what just happened. Now."

Ladybug knows she should push for details. Ask Chat what exactly she means and how she's able to know. She knows she should deny, deny, deny, and be her aloof, confident self.

But tonight, in the emptiness of the street, Ladybug feels less like the heroine she should be and more like the timid girl behind the mask.

"I needed to see her, just one time." Ladybug sobs, and, when Chat moves in to hug her, presses her fist against her collarbone. "One time. Just to see how well she's doing."

"She's doing well, obviously," Chat growls, venomous. "So quit worrying."

Ladybug shakes her head. "No. No, no, no. She's not fine. Nothing about this is fine. And it's all my fault."

Because Ladybug's not an idiot. It's clear Chloe's still hurting, even after all this time. Because Ladybug knows Chloe, and knows her tells even after 5 years, and can sense everything. Chloe's still hurting. Ladybug whimpers, and buries her face deeper, so deep she can hear Chat's heartbeat.

Her earring beeps louder. She'll transform soon.

"My Lady, I don't know what's between you and the girl, but it's not your fault. It can't be your fault."

"I hurt her."

"You can never hurt anyone." Ladybug laughs bitterly, and does the opposite of calming down. She's hysterical, she thinks. And she knows she's adding more of Chat's worries, but she can't help herself. Those damn beeps are getting more annoying, and all Ladybug wants is to tear them from her ears and squash them down to stop the beeping. "Ladybug, please, I need you to breathe in with me."

And as Chat walks her through her small fit of hysteria (and maybe a smaller dose of panic attack), all Ladybug can think is how Chat never calls her by her actual hero name.

Ladybug takes one last shuddering breath that melts away her panic. All that's left is numbness, bitterness, exhaustion, guilt and regret. Same as usual, she supposes.

She looks up at Chat, and her eyes flutter close as the earrings beep one last time before they cast a red glow around her. Max opens her eyes and smiles wryly. "That's the thing, Chatton. I did hurt her. So many times."

Chat is speechless, unable to say a word. Max bitterly sighs, and pushes herself away from her. She shouldn't be disappointed in her reaction. No one would guess that the amazing, miraculous Ladybug is actually just a weird kid who hides behind her camera all the time.

She should leave. Save herself the embarrassment of letting everything dawn on Chat. _You're such a disappointment, Caulfield. _

But Max can't leave. Because Chat's holding her, her grip like iron. Max looks up to find glazed eyes.

"It makes so much sense," Chat says.

Max shakes her head, and tugs. Chat doesn't budge. "It doesn't. I'm sorry. I should go."

"You're _Ladybug_." Max tugs again, harder, and keeps on tugging, uncomfortable. Chat sucks in a deep breath. "No wonder I'm in love with you."

Max stops tugging. She looks up at Chat. "What?" Chat isn't looking at her. She's looking through her.

"_You're _Ladybug."

Max shakes her head, and tugs, one last time with barely an ounce of effort. "Just let me go, Chat. Please. Just let me go."

"Max…"

"I hurt her, Chat. Just let me go already."

"You saved her," Chat says, still with that glazed look. "So many times. And you didn't even know."

"You're wrong," Max says. "Don't talk to me like you know me."

"Oh, but I do."

_You do. _"Shut up."

"I know you." Chat brushes her knuckles against Max's hair. She looks stricken, yet she's smiling. "I've known you for a long time."

"Two months isn't a long time."

"Maybe," Chat says, like they've known each other for far longer than that. "But I've fought by your side for these two months, and I'd like to think I know _some _things about my own partner."

"Really? Well, what _do _you know?" Max gives Chat a hateful, challenging stare, willing Chat to just drop this. But Chat takes it all in stride. And it makes Max wonder what she's done to make Chat this devoted in her.

"I know that you scrunch up your face when you think, and bite your tongue when you concentrate." Chat's eyes linger on Max's lips, and the tip of her ears burn, down to her neck. She doesn't shy away, though. Not from Chat. "I used to tease you because I just love those little quirks so much I couldn't just not say anything. But I was a kid, and kids don't exactly know how to tell other kids they're beautiful, especially when we were both girls and I thought it was weird, so… I teased you instead."

Chat's words don't register. That's not why Max knows who she is. It's in her eyes. The way she's looking at Max right now. Only one person could ever look at her that way.

And Max broke that person's heart 5 years ago.

Chat's hands wander. They straddle Max's hips, and Max shudders when her claws dig into her skin through the fabric of her clothes.

"Chat…"

"Even now, I don't know how to tell you how beautiful you are." Chat taps the edges of her claws the way people tap against a wooden table in waiting. Heat coils. "Flat-out telling you doesn't work, and not telling you doesn't do anything… Not even flirting works."

Max's breath hardens. Her body shakes, though she isn't cold. Far from it. She knows what's happening, what will happen, yet she doesn't know what to do, and it scares her. But she takes one look at Chat, and she isn't scared anymore. This is Chat. Only Chat. She trusts Chat with her life. She isn't scared. She can never be scared around Chat.

Max licks her lips. "Chat…"

"It pains me to know how much you deny yourself, Max." Are those tears glistening in Chat's eyes? Is that why her voice is low and as shaky as Max feels? "I'm running out of ways to tell you that you're beautiful, and I'm growing desperate."

Chat pulls her with vigorous strength. Max gasps as their bodies press against each other. Her hands, without her permission or awareness, wander, enjoying the strong, scratchy feeling of leather against her nails.

As Max's hands wander down, Chat's own hands wander up until one cups Max's cheek and the other, her back.

Max knows what's about to happen.

"Chat…"

"You know that's not my name, princess."

Tears fall down. Both from Max's face and Chloe's. And they kiss. They kiss like never before. And Max buzzes in the prospect of falling in love with the same person twice, and getting to know all these different kinds of Chloes. They don't stop. Not even until Chloe's transformed back. Not even until light drizzles of rain pours down. Not even until the sun rises.


End file.
